


His Favorite Landscape

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: Forde finally makes good on his promise to teach Kyle to paint, and gets a little more than he bargained for.Written for the Fire Emblem Rarepair Exchange 2019.





	His Favorite Landscape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vault_Emblem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/gifts).



Forde hadn’t painted a portrait for over a decade, and truly, he hadn’t expected to ever paint one again. The only one he had ever wanted to paint was the portrait of his and Franz’s mother, and while it may have been lacking in technical skill because of the age when he did it, it was more treasured than any of his other paintings. He hadn’t seen a reason to try again, for he didn’t think that anything could be that special or bring as much joy.

That is, there hadn’t been a reason until Kyle asked him to teach him how to paint.

With the war over, that freed up Forde’s time to paint, not just in short snatches on the battlefield, but to dedicate a whole day to the landscape of his choice, whether it being rolling hills, a thick forest, or the view from the ramparts of Castle Renais. Kyle had mentioned before that he wanted Forde to teach him how to paint, and so they had started lessons shortly after things had settled down after the victory over Grado.

Things had moved slowly at first. Kyle had no experience with art of any kind, having always dedicated his life to becoming a knight of Renais, but he pursued art with the same fierce devotion that he pursued his training. Forde teased him for how rigid he was when painting, and how his face seemed to be permanently etched into a frown when he worked with the paint.

“Loosen up,” Forde had once told him, on a semi-cloudy day when they were set up in a field with mountains stretching into the distance. “Painting shouldn’t make you so tense.”

“I need to improve,” Kyle said sternly, judging his painting with a critical eye, then turning to look at Forde’s. “If I don’t practice, I’ll never be as good as you.”

“Give yourself time. You’re doing very well already for how long you’ve been at this! Relax. It’s not like you’re going to need to defend yourself with a paintbrush,” he laughed.

Kyle, however, did not. “I still don’t understand how you do that with the colors. Even if we’re using the same, yours seem so much more… deep, and vibrant.”

“It’s a matter of experience, and learning how to work with the paint. This isn’t another competition, Kyle. You’ll get better with time.”

“I don’t understand how you’re managing to do this with such a lackadaisical approach. There has to be some sort of procedure to learning this.”

“Well, there is, but, if you want to learn that way, you should find another teacher. Everything I know I taught myself through experimentation, not books or rigorous studies. I think some of the court painters might be willing to help-”

“No,” Kyle abruptly cut him off. “I don’t want a different teacher.”

“Aw, are you that fond of me?” Forde joked, but Kyle wouldn’t meet his eye, instead staring out at the landscape in front of them. “...I have an idea. Let me show you something.”

“What is it?”

“Come with me.” Forde extended his hand, and Kyle hesitated a moment before taking it. Feeling his rough palm in his hand was both unfamiliar and comfortable- he couldn’t remember a time when they had touched without gloves, but something about it felt right. He led him out into the field, further away from their easels, then crouched down amidst a patch of flowers and tall grass. Kyle followed him, and, to his mild surprise, didn’t let go of his hand.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Kyle asked. “This looks exactly the same as the rest of this field.”

“Look closely at this flower. Tell me, what color is it?” He plucked a small yellow flower and held it up to Kyle, twirling the stem in the fingers of his free hand.

“Yellow,” Kyle said flatly.

“And what else?”

“More yellow.”

“Yes, but not quite. If you look closely, you’ll see faint hints of orange, and green. Now, look at this.” He held the flower up to the sun. “See how it brightens in the light? And where the shadows are cast?”

Kyle nodded. “So I need to be more observant with even the smallest of details, and use more colors.”

“Yes, that’s a big part of art. You’ll learn more with time, experience, and practice.”

“Alright.”

“Here, let’s store this here…” Forde said, gently tucking the flower behind Kyle’s ear and brushing some of his hair back out of his face, “for safekeeping. So you can look at it for reference.”

Kyle didn’t let go of his hand until they were seated again at their easels, ready to paint again.

 

* * *

 

Painting wasn’t the only thing that Kyle pursued as doggedly as his training. Forde started noticing this more and more frequently during their lessons, and how Kyle’s chair seemed to be moving perpetually closer and closer to Forde’s, and physical contact became more frequent, with him gently tapping Forde’s shoulder or resting a hand on his forearm when he had a question. Forde gave as good as he got, but through congratulatory pats on the back or an arm around his shoulders when giving him critiques on his painting.

Kyle was the first to take it a step further after an indoor painting session, this time focusing on still lifes. Still lifes weren’t Forde’s favorite, but after a sudden thunderstorm prevented them from painting outside, and Kyle’s strict schedule and tireless insistence on practice prevented them from either cancelling or rescheduling, he figured that it would do in a pinch. Forde had just finished washing his brushes when Kyle approached in order to do the same thing, but instead of cleaning his brushes, he set them down and turned to Forde.

“You have paint on your face,” he observed.

“Do I? Where?”

“Here.” Kyle cupped Forde’s cheek in his hand, running his thumb over the offending splotch of paint. “It’s not coming off.”

“I’m sure it will wash off later.” Forde waited for Kyle to withdraw his hand, but that moment never came. Instead, he leaned forward, slightly tilting Forde’s head as he did, and their lips met. Forde supposed he should be surprised, or even offended, at the sudden move, but he wasn’t- just as when he had held Kyle’s hand, it just felt right. They both ignored the clatter of falling brushes, knocked off the table as Forde moved closer and kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him.

Kyle seemed embarrassed afterwards and hurriedly excused himself after cleaning up the rest of his painting supplies, leaving so quickly that he forgot his painting. A bit bewildered but also amused by Kyle’s actions, Forde figured that he simply needed some time to gather his thoughts, and waited until evening to try and see him again.

He found Kyle on the way to his chambers, looking even more tight-lipped and stern than usual, if that was even possible.

“Hey, Kyle!” he called out, waving for his attention. Kyle stopped stiffly, waiting for Forde to approach him. “You forgot your painting,” he continued, holding out the canvas. “You were in such a rush earlier! I can’t imagine why,” he added with a wink.

Kyle took the painting, not meeting Forde’s eye. “Yes… About that, I’d like to apologize. That was forward of me, and I understand if you wish to discontinue our lessons because of it.”

“Why would I want to stop? I liked it. I truly have been enjoying my time around you, Kyle, and I’d like to spend much more time with you. Now, why you’d fall for a layabout like me is kind of a mystery, but I’m glad you did.”

“Wh- I haven’t even explained anything yet! You’re making quite a few assumptions!”

“Very good assumptions, considering the fact that you were kissing me for a good five minutes earlier today.”

“Well, at the very least, you are correct, but… This was not how I meant for it to happen. Listen, Forde. I know we’ve had our fair share of… arguments in the past, and, for the longest time, I thought it was only because I was frustrated with how you performed your duties, but… It was also because I worried about you, and… I cared about you. More deeply than I realized at first, I’ll admit, and now, being able to spend all this time with you, outside the battlefield…” He cleared his throat, then continued. “I have indeed fallen for you, Forde. I love you.”

“You even prepared a confession speech and everything? I’m impressed, but then again, I should expect nothing less of one of Renais’s finest knights.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Oh, of course not. Not by a long shot, but, I think it’s getting late and you need to be getting to bed so that you can keep up with your schedule. So, take this as my response, for now.” He leaned forward and kissed him softly, resting his hands on his shoulders. “How’s that?”

“Wonderful,” Kyle smiled, and Forde smiled too before giving him another quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course. Good night.” They parted ways, but before Kyle went into his chamber, Forde turned back. “Oh, and one more thing… I fully expect a romantic dinner sooner than later!”

“I’ll see what I can do. I promise.”

With that, Kyle was gone, and Forde retreated to his own room, his steps lighter than usual.

 

* * *

 

Kyle made good on his promise for dinner more than once, and went above and beyond in other aspects as well. He was a true romantic, Forde found out, and while he was a bit surprised, he enjoyed it nonetheless.

However, the biggest surprise came at the beginning of one of their lessons. Kyle had been learning for over a year, and had improved remarkably during that time. It was when Forde was suggesting locations for their next painting that Kyle stopped him.

“I want to paint something other than a landscape, I think.”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Forde asked, cocking his head and silently praying that Kyle didn’t suggest still lifes again.

“What about a portrait? We’ve never done that before.”

“Well, no, we haven’t. I haven’t painted a portrait since…”

“Since the portrait of your mother?”

“Yes.”

“...if you don’t want to, I understand.”

“No, we certainly can. I don’t mind it, but… I’m not very experienced in that area.”

“We can learn together, can’t we?”

“Yes, but I suppose I should do at least one practice portrait before I try to teach you… I have to at least be able to pretend that I know what I’m doing, right? I’d be a sorry teacher if I couldn’t, but... I’d have to find someone willing to pose.”

“I could.”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t be able to do justice to the handsome love of my life on the first go,” Forde cooed, pinching his cheek and getting his hand swatted away.

“I’m sure it will be beautiful. Just like you.”

“Employing flattery against me? I’m shocked,” Forde laughed, and Kyle smothered his laughter with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

That was how they ended up in Forde’s room, with a couch they had “borrowed” from another room for Kyle to recline on, since Forde had insisted that he be comfortable, but had firmly refused Kyle’s suggestion of just using the bed since they both knew that would inevitably lead to a halt in painting in favor of other things. So instead Kyle was half-lying on the couch, propped up by cushions and wearing his best clothes. Forde insisted upon tucking flowers in his hair as well, saying that they would only enhance his natural beauty, but mostly because at least he knew he could paint the flowers, if nothing else. Still, his statement was true- Kyle truly looked beautiful, with the sun highlighting his green curls, dotted with bright flowers, and his loose silk shirt draped charmingly across his frame.

Forde didn’t start painting immediately, and Kyle noticed. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing’s the matter. I’m just… thinking. Wondering how I got so lucky, mostly.”

“I’ve wondered that since the beginning.”

Forde smiled, and finally started to paint.

The prospect of doing a portrait had terrified him, in truth, not directly because of his inexperience, but more because he was afraid that that very inexperience would lead to him disappointing Kyle. He remembered how overjoyed his mother was when she received her portrait, and he hoped that he would be able to get that same result this time around, but was unsure.

The sketching process was clunky and uncertain, and took much longer than he wanted, but Kyle waited patiently as Forde tried again and again to refine the likeness, his eyes always calmly and lovingly resting on Forde. He tried at first to talk while drawing, afraid that Kyle would grow bored, but soon fell silent as his focus increased. Neither seemed to mind the silence- it was comfortable, and was a testament to their closeness that they didn’t need words to enjoy the other’s presence.

With the sketch done, Forde moved on to the paint, and while portraiture was much different than a landscape, he found more similarities than expected. Kyle’s hair was the same rich green of the hills and forests that they so often painted together, the same green as the field in which they had first held hands, and Forde found himself molding the shapes and curves of it much as he would sunlit rolling hills in the distance, with hazy, dark forests serving as shadows. His strong, wide chin reminded him of mountains, as did the weight of his brow and nose. His eyes were dark but with hints of light, just as a starry, moonless night, framed with dark green lashes like individual blades of grass. His skin, roughened by battle but still retaining some of that boyish smoothness, was like a rock recently tossed into a river, still not smoothed out completely by the water. The ripples of his blue shirt were rivers and waterfalls, guided by the curves of his muscles and torso to run down and pool against the couch and his lap.

The painting itself took a few hours, but by the time that Forde was done, he was more impressed than he had thought he would be by the results. True, the likeness wasn’t perfect, but it looked enough like Kyle that someone who knew him would be able to tell.

“Well, what do you think?” Forde asked, turning the canvas around so that Kyle, who had just finished stretching after finally being allowed to move, could see. He regarded the painting with an expression as critical as always, staying silent as he leaned in to examine the details before standing back up straight with a softened expression and a smile.

“You did a beautiful job, Forde. I love it.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” He clapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “But am I really that handsome?”

“Of course you are. You’re my favorite landscape I’ve ever painted.”

“Is that so?” Kyle laughed, then turned to look at Forde. “You have paint on your face.”

“Do I? Where?”

Kyle cupped his cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the splatter of paint. “Here,” he said before leaning in for a kiss. The way their lips met was both unfamiliar and comfortable- every time they kissed it felt like their first time, but at the same time it felt more natural than breathing.


End file.
